


Inflation's a Bitch

by in_motu_proprio



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-25 07:04:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9808472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_motu_proprio/pseuds/in_motu_proprio
Summary: Peggy is transported to 2017 by one of Howard's experiments.





	1. Chapter 1

“… is not going to work, Howard.” Peggy turned around, lightheaded. That was what most of his nonsense did. Instead of just being lightheaded, she looked up to find herself incredibly overwhelmed. Where was she? Certainly not the lab she’d been in only moments ago. Peggy shifted a little more to see that behind her had been an entire room of people. It took her a second, but the smell of antiseptic told her she was in a doctor’s waiting room. “Ta-da,” Peggy forced a smile and a couple of people clapped with confused looks on their faces. She had to get out of here. “Shows every hour on the hour,” was all she said as she hurried out into the hallway. 

“What the bloody hell?” Peggy headed for the street, needing some air. That turned out to be a terrible idea because it was bright, loud, and polluted as hell the moment she opened the glass door to the outside world. She was clearly still in New York, clearly in the future sometime. Peggy stood close to the building, reminding herself to catch her breath. She’d figure this out and get home. She took note of the building, scrawling the address down on a piece of paper from her pocket and a pilfered pen from the reception desk. It occurred to her that she had only what was in her pockets and what was between her ears to get her home. Peggy’s stomach sunk to her feet. She had to find S.H.I.E.L.D. Surely her organization or some offshoot would still be alive and well. 

Peggy didn’t have to look much farther than the next block where she found a corner shop to duck into. On the front page of the New York Times was a photograph of a striking man with a S.H.I.E.L.D. vest on. “Director Mace.” Her brow knitted, mouth puckering. “Gone public, I see.” It might just be easier to find them than she’d thought and Peggy breathed a small sigh of relief. She put the paper down and walked to a wall of coolers. Despite the war being ten years in the rearview for her, and despite her moving to the U.S. where the rationing hadn’t been nearly as bad, Peggy was astonished by the amount of food available just in this corner store. Just the beverages alone, all in different shaped bottles too thin and spongy to be glass, were in more colors than the bloody rainbow. Who drank blue things, anyway? It looked like something you ought to put into a car not your body. 

She found something familiar, usually too sweet for her tastes, but welcome because she knew it. Coca-Cola’s packaging had changed in the future. The bottles were far larger and it was that same springy plastic that everything seemed to be in. Peggy wasn’t overly fond of plastic. It just seemed unhygienic and wasteful. She brought it to the bottle to the counter, setting it down and pulling out some change. “One dollar, eighty-seven cents,” the disaffected clerk told her without taking her eyes from the flat object she was holding. 

“I’m sorry, how much?” Peggy’s eyes went wide when the girl repeated herself. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ll return it.” She walked back, shocked at the prices as she really looked around. Everything was absurdly high priced and Peggy instead purchased a cup of coffee for fifty cents from a street vendor. It was also insanely high priced in her opinion, but she was cold and needed to think. Peggy walked for blocks looking for a payphone, having no luck whatsoever. Eventually she walked into a hideously modern hotel lobby full of white on white furniture that was louder than if it had been bright orange. A mousy girl stood behind the counter looking incredibly out of place. That was good. Out of place meant off kilter and off kilter meant she could work angles with this girl a bit easier. 

“Hi… Hello,” Peggy put on her best lost foreigner look. “I was wondering if I could use your telephone. I can’t seem to find one anywhere. I can reimburse you.” Peggy pulled out her wallet, trying to look as lost as she could. “I just need to call my ride.” 

“Oh… did your phone die? That sucks. Uber’s usually good around here.” Peggy understood very little of what the girl was saying. “Hold on a sec.” She pulled out one of those metal and glass slabs everyone had. They came in different sizes and colors, but they were similar enough to know they were all the same. From the way people held them it was clear it was some sort of recorder, maybe even a calling device? “Here,” she punched a code in, 362436, into the phone then handed it over. 

“Thanks so much.” Peggy stepped away just a little, searching the screen. What were these pictures? They looked almost like the graphic interfaces Howard was playing around with on his computers. Oh… it was a computer! A tiny, TINY computer. “Oh, delightful.” 

“Newest model. I stood in line for four hours to get it. The pictures are great.” The thing took pictures, Peggy wondered. That was bloody insane. She found the icon that said phone and hit it. A list of calls came up, some with names, some with only numbers. There were dates and times. “You’ve just got to tap keypad. You use something else where you’re from?” 

“Quite,” Peggy said with a tight smile. She hit the keypad and was finally greeted with something she recognized. _Here’s hoping the number still works._ She dialed and silently prayed that this call would go through. The phone started ringing and Peggy put it to her ear. “Have you got a card with the address? They’ll need to know where to pick me up.” 

“Yeah, sure. Give me a sec.” She popped off down the hall, a quick pace said she didn’t want to be gone from the hotel lobby too long despite Peggy being the only person in the lobby. Peggy was on ring number twenty by the time the girl got back. “Not picking up? You can give it a minute and call back if you need. Might not be picking up for a strange number,” she pointed out. 

“I”m afraid not.” Peggy tried to look apologetic when all she was was pissed. Someone was supposed to man this phone day and night. It was specifically for agents coming in out of the cold and there were protocols to keep it up over the years. She’d written it herself. How was S.H.I.E.L.D. still running if they didn’t take care of their agents? “You don’t mind?” 

“Nah… it’s been dead in here all day. You’re the most interesting thing to walk through that door in three hours.” 

“Must be dreadfully dull then,” Peggy laughed. “Dull enough to have a nip of something in that desk?” The girl blushed. “Ah…” Peggy wagged a finger and gave her a wink. Being friendly was going to get her places with this one and Peggy wasn’t going to hesitate to use that skill. 

“Ok, ok. It’s boring as hell in here.” The girl went to the desk and after a few moments produced an incredibly welcome sight, a flask. “It’s just whisky. That ok? I can get you a soda or something.” 

“Whisky is more welcome than you’ll ever know.” Peggy gratefully took the flask and had a pull. Then another, handing it back. “Thank you. For all your help.” 

“No problem. Feel free to Yelp us or whatever. Facebook. Any good publicity would be helpful. It’s my brother’s place,” she said. “Him and his stupid wife.” Peggy then listened for the next ten minutes while the mousy haired girl told her everything about the failing business and her brother’s failing marriage. “… but what are you going to do? It’s 2017.” Peggy shrugged her shoulders, her mind boggling at the thought of 63 years having passed in the blink of an eye. “Hey, you look a little pale. Come sit down.” The girl urged Peggy to sit on the sofa and Peggy did not resist. What if she couldn’t return? She could potentially be stuck here. “You can try to call again,” the girl told Peggy, handing her the telephone. 

“Thank you. Really.” Peggy took the flask and telephone from the girl when she offered, smiling. “Jet lag I think.” 

“Oh, sorry,” she clucked her tongue. “That’s a total bitch. I do a juice cleanse the day after I come home. Helps with energy.” Peggy smiled tightly then picked up the phone again, pausing to pretend that she didn’t remember the code the girl had used, letting her unlock it. “362426,” she reminded. 

The girl stepped away a little and Peggy tried the number again. It took only three rings this time, a breathless young man answering. “Hello.” 

“Hello. I would like to be put through the the operator in charge of calls. I have a code for her.” Peggy was speaking quietly, shifting a little as the girl drifted away. 

“Operator in charge… ma’am if you have a code, I can take it.” 

“54-21-R19S-CM.” The code would, or at least it should, immediately trigger a protocol to bring agents in from the cold. It would be an old one, of course, but they kept them ALL on file. 

“Repeating 54-21-R19S-CM correct?” Peggy confirmed. “Yes, ma’mm. Extraction in ten minutes or less. Name, please.” 

Peggy glanced up to see that the girl wasn’t paying attention. “Agent 13.” The clerk had become distracted by another screen. There were so many screens in the future. Did these people ever pick up a book or speak to one another? 

“Yes, of course Agent Carter. The team is on its way to you now. Are you injured?” 

Peggy breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that SHIELD still knew who she was. “I am not. I am, however, quite hungry.” Peggy was joking, but when the team showed up five and a half minutes later, one member had an apple in hand. 

The agent approaching her had an incredibly confused expression. “I thought you said this was supposed to be Agent 13.” 

“That’s what she identified herself as.” 

“I know 13. This isn’t Sharon,” the tall agent pointed out. 

“Sharon…. No. Peggy.” She extended her hand, “Peggy Carter.” Of the four agents who came in, three of their mouths dropped open and the fourth dropped the apple. 

It was silent for a beat then conversation exploded between the agents. “…did she just…”

“She did. But wait…”

“… looks so young.” 

It took Peggy a moment, but she cleared her throat and they all stopped dead in their tracks. “If you don’t mind, I’m quite tired and would like to get home.” She knew every moment that was spent in the future put her own time in jeopardy. There were many theories about time travel and how it effected the times around it, none of which she’d taken a whole lot of time to understand. Now she really wished she would have.

“Ma’mm… are you … _Looking for the Delorean?_ ” Peggy looked at the young lady like she was out of her mind. 

“She won’t know it that way. What was the old timey one they used?” 

“Old timey,” Peggy asked with some annoyance. 

One agent caught Peggy’s attention. “I’ve got it…are you _Over the Rainbow?_ ” 

“Well at least I understand that reference,” Peggy sighed. “Indeed. And I should like to return to Kansas as soon as possible.” 

“Of course, ma’mm. We have a car waiting.” 

Peggy took a moment to thank the girl behind the desk before heading to rejoin the agents. “I have a question,” she told the agent closest to her as they walked to the car. “What’s Yelp?”


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed that no one knew what to do with her. They started to drive north, then went east and quickly back south. When they turned west, Peggy knew they were beginning to drive in circles. Peggy let them think she was a bit worse off than she actually was, watching every move as she sat there quietly hoping to fade into the seats. She’d already counted weapons just to know what she was dealing with and, frankly, because it made her feel more secure knowing how long it would take her to disarm them all. She was in the back of a very large car truck hybrid. It looked rather like an elongated, fully covered jeep to her eye. Or something heavier like they’d used in the war. Only this vehicle was beautiful and didn’t smell like diesel.  
“Ma’mm… may I ask you a question?” 

“Reynolds, you’re not supposed to ask her anything until she’s debriefed by Director Coulson.”

“Director Coulson,” Peggy asked as she shifted a touch closer, eyes crinkling. “Where are we going to meet Director Coulson?” 

“Actually it’s Agent Coulson,” the man called Smith replied. To them it was an innocent slip, to Peggy it said this was a man who lost power. Either that or he’d done what powerful people had done for a very, very long time, he’d found a scapegoat and stepped out of the power position so he could work in the shadows. She wondered who this Agent Coulson was. “And we aren’t supposed to communicate more than necessary.”

“Well that seems rather unaccommodating.” It left them with an awkward silence until Reynolds broke it. “D.C. Ma’mm. We’ll be there in a few hours.” 

“Hours,” Peggy asked. “I’m bloody starving.” 

“We can stop….”   
“No, we can’t,” the one called Smith said sharply. 

“I’m hungry too,” came a voice that had been silent so far, the driver. She was the one who had stayed in the car when the others came into the hotel lobby. Peggy hadn’t actually met her. “We can stop at the next exit there’s a small diner.” The Asian woman glanced back at Peggy, seeming to take her in for a moment before turning her gaze back to the road. “And Smith… don’t be an ass. Let them talk. I’m sure they can find something to discuss that won’t shred the fabric of spacetime.” 

They ended up settling on flowers and gardening, of which Peggy knew a considerable amount actually. Mostly she knew about fertilizer and how to turn it into bombs, which flowers and plants could kill you, and what kind of implements one was likely to find in a tool shed that could be lethal. Well, that and lilies. Her mother had kept lilies and Peggy had always had a deep fondness for them. The agent who had dropped the apple, Agent Walters, chimed in that her mother had also kept orchids. Peggy was able to spin that into a conversation about an orchid exhibit she’d gone to just a few weeks ago. 

_A few weeks ago, sixty-three years and a few weeks ago maybe._ Peggy felt a little faint again at the idea that literally every soul she knew was likely dead. _She_ was likely dead. “Four miles,” someone said, snapping Peggy back to the here and now. “Ma’mm we’re going to have to ask you to stay with one of us at all times. It’s protocol.” 

Peggy gave him a sweet smile and leaned in to pat the young man’s knee. “I know dear. I was the one who wrote it.” The young man blushed and Peggy knew she’d done her job. He was chastised without being humiliated. 

“Ma’mm….” One of the agents was holding out a jacket, black and long. “Your clothes are conspicuous.” Peggy didn’t know what was so conspicuous about a blouse and slacks, but she took the coat, sliding her arms into the too-large sleeves. 

“Perhaps you ought to stop calling me ma’am if you’d like to stay inconspicuous,” Peggy pointed out. “I assume people are still called Peggy today?” 

“Yes, ma’mm… Peggy,” Reynolds said with a slightly forced smile. “My grandmother’s name was Peggy.” 

“Lovely,” Peggy said with an internal roll of her eyes. They pulled into a parking spot at a small diner off the interstate. Peggy couldn’t help but roll her eyes for real when three of the five went in with her, flanking and at her back. “You’re as subtle as a cold sore,” she hissed and they shifted formation. It was less formal, which she appreciated. 

“I’m going to powder my nose.” She got up from the table a redhead seated them at and Reynolds followed suit. “Really?” 

“… you wrote the protocol,” Smith shot back with a little smirk. 

“Oh… good, very good.” The young man had clearly bounced back from her mild scolding. “Come on then,” she told Reynolds, “but I draw the line at the stall.” Reynolds smiled and Peggy was glad to be getting on her good side. It meant that if she had to manipulate anyone, it was going to be one of these, probably Reynolds. She wouldn’t do it unless she had to, but Peggy Carter was no saint. Peggy used the facilities then took a moment to wash up a little. She scrubbed her hands then carefully patted her face down with an incredibly rough hand towel made of paper. It was dreadful but the cool water it had soaked up felt quite nice resting on the nape of her neck. Reynolds just stood by the door. “You do know that I have two ways to escape that do not include that door and I haven’t even started to think creatively.” 

Reynolds smiled nervously. “Sorry, ma’mm. I don’t actually think you’re going to bolt.” 

“I’m not,” Peggy assured. “I need to get home as quickly as possible and, in my estimation, S.H.I.E.L.D. is the best way to do that short of Howard Stark having had children.” Peggy laughed as though it was the most absurd idea. Reynolds’ eyes went wide. Howard had kids? Oh that was horrifying. Peggy couldn’t imagine him as a father. Hopefully he’d married well so the children at least had a mother who didn’t accidentally send them sixty-three years in the bloody future. Peggy brought the cool paper rag to her neck, bending over the sink a little. So Howard Stark had children. Who would have thought? Peggy wondered how horribly twisted the kids were. Either that or they were bakers of fine pastries or librarians for rare collections. Peggy could see any child of Howard’s coming out with some serious energy that would need to be channelled. 

“Hopefully Director Coulson will be able to help with that.”

“Agent,” Peggy corrected with a wry smile before tossing out the paper towel. “That has to be a hell of a story.”

“… ma’mm, you have no idea.”


	3. Chapter 3

The sheer volume of food Peggy was given on her diner plate was staggering. She’d ordered a hot turkey sandwich, hoping it wouldn’t have changed much in sixty years. She was wrong. The first thing she noticed was that the meat was different. It tasted strange, almost like an imitation of turkey, and it was strangely springy to boot. The bread looked like it was a porous, white sponge and tasted about the same as well. Peggy, though, was starving. She ate every bite on her plate and finished off the french fries Reynolds hadn’t finished with her hamburger. “I guess it was good,” the waitress asked as Peggy mopped up the remainder of the gravy with a roll. At least that was recognizable. 

“Quite,” Peggy lied. “I was wondering if I could trouble you for a slice of the cherry pie in the case.”

“Sure, sweetheart. You want that warmed up? Ice cream?”

“Yes to both.”   
 “You’ve got the loveliest accent,” the waitress drawled.

“I could say the same for you.” Peggy gave the waitress a sweet smile, clearly unnerving Smith enough to get him to look away. She liked that she made him slightly uncomfortable. “Anyone else want pie?” Smith was annoyed that she was taking this long, that they hadn’t just gotten something and went, but Peggy would be damned if she had to be an animal and eat in the bloody car. That was terrible. Apparently it was totally normal in this day and age to shove a burger in your face while driving. It was dreadfully dangerous in her estimation. Plus, how would you enjoy your food? It seemed like a means to an end and she didn’t want to know what had changed so much that it was acceptable to gobble down calories at a stoplight. 

“Well aren’t you sweet. I’ll get pie all around. On me.” 

The waitress left and Reynolds looked at her curiously. “You just got us all free pie.”   
“I did,” Peggy nodded. “But we’re paying for it in her tip.” Smith was staring at her and Agent Walters had a smile on her face. When it came, the pie was quite hot as though it had just come from the oven. “Goodness, was this just baked?” 

“Nuked it,” the waitress told her with a smile. “Put the ice cream in a dish so it wouldn’t melt. Enjoy, sweetheart.” Peggy didn’t understand. What in the world did _nuked it_ mean? Certainly it didn’t have the same meaning as her own vernacular. Peggy eyed the pie curiously, noticing that her compatriots were devouring theirs. Nuke or nuclear brought images that had haunted Peggy’s nightmares for years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki. She’d read reports because at the time she couldn’t comprehend what in the world she was seeing in the images being sent in. There was nothing but scorched earth close to the strike point and that wasn’t the worst. Those people had at least died immediately. 

It was thoughts of the people who hadn’t died immediately that had Peggy passing her pie off to Walters who’d already finished hers. “You don’t want it,” the woman asked. 

“I believe my eyes were bigger than my stomach in this instance.” Peggy gave Walters a wan little smile as she settled down into the overly large coat they’d made her put on. “I’m swimming in this.”

“It’s an extra we keep in the SUV. Easier to roll sleeves up on a smaller agent than try to squeeze one of my bigger ones into a coat three sizes too small.” 

“SUV?” Peggy set her napkin on the table, knife and fork sliding onto her plate for the last time. 

“The car.” 

“Ah.” Peggy felt a bit dim, but rectified that sensation by being the only one at the table who could accurately calculate twenty-five percent of the bill for tip within an reasonable amount of time. The service was good, and after Angie had taught her the importance of tipping well in the US, Peggy had never undertipped a server again. The amount of the bill was astronomical, obscene in her opinion. In her life Peggy had never seen a bill for a meal that was that expensive, and yet it wasn’t a very good meal. Apparently the other agents saw nothing wrong with $1.75 for a Coca-Cola. Peggy had stuck to water. 

They lingered at the pay counter, deciding if they were rotating seats. It was exceptionally tedious and after a solid minute of quiet conversations about car sickness, Peggy just walked out. She made it halfway to the car before anyone noticed and it wasn’t even one of her three fellow diners. “You’re not supposed to be out here alone,” the driver pointed out. 

“Yes, well,” Peggy shrugged and finished walking to the car, leaning against it as they waited for the agents inside to realize what they’d done. “Who do you think will be out the door first?” 

“Smith,” the driver told Peggy without pause. 

“My money would be on Reynolds.” The driver offered Peggy a stick of gum which she gratefully took. “I don’t believe we ever properly met.” She held her hand out. “Peggy Carter. And you are?” 

The driver stood up a little straighter and took Peggy’s hand. “Melinda May.” The woman was barely restraining something. Peggy wasn’t quite sure what it was, but it was clear from the way the woman’s eyes kept flicking away that she was overwhelmed. 

“Not much you can say, eh?” Peggy crossed her arms over her chest as Smith came pounding out the door with Reynolds and Walters on his heels. “Damn. I owe you a fiver.” For a split second, for a few moments, Melinda May smiled. Peggy didn’t know why, but she was pretty sure that was a rare sight.


End file.
